A New World
by G.D. Moreau
Summary: Blakely Coleman is the daughter of a highly respected Dr., who decides to travel to Whales for the summer in order to study the Cairnholm shipwrecks. She expected this to be her last summer as a child, before she'd have to grow up. But instead, she meets a wonderful, and peculiar, family who face her with a difficult choice: to stay or go? Set in 1946.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

 _"_ _Daddy, are you done yet!" 7 year old me whined as I danced around my dad's work desk, pigtails bouncing around with my bright blue dress up outfit._

 _"_ _Blakely, go play with your dolls, I won't be done for another hour or so." He gave a stern look, and then turned back to his studies._

 _"_ _Hmph!" I frowned and crossed my arms, refusing to leave his side. When he ignored me I reached my hand to his cheek, without even understanding what I was doing, and asked him again. Except I hadn't said a word out loud._

 _A faint gold glow appeared on my hand as I thought the word please over and over. That was when I knew I'd really done something wrong, but my child self didn't know just what it was. I just wanted daddy to stop working and play tea party with me!_

 _"_ _What the hell was that!" he roared; towering over me as I hugged Mr. Teddybear for support._

 _"_ _Millie!" he shouted for mum, and when she came running he yanked one of my hands to her cheek, pulling me right off the ground._

 _I was bawling my eyes out by now, I knew what daddy was yelling at me to do, but I couldn't focus with all the yelling. Instead I closed my eyes and pictured I wasn't here, that I was somewhere happy, like at a tea party with Mr. Teddybear and Mrs. Bunny._

 _At the same time as I started to picture it I heard mummy gasp and daddy finally let go of my hands, letting me fall to the ground which only made me cry harder._

 _Something weird was happening, I could feel vibrations in my chest coming from my rapidly beating heart, and the pretty gold glow from before was engulfing my body. All of a sudden my skin felt as if it was being shrink-wrapped to my body, and I screamed bloody murder. Daddy shouted at me to shut up, and when he looked down to see the golden light covering my body he jumped back, eyes wide._

 _When the light died down I was still crying, but it sounded different, lighter and softer than my wails. I tried to move but found it suddenly impossible to stand up. Speaking proved to be just as useless a pursuit as the only sound I could make were senseless babbles._

 _Both my mum and dad had stopped to stare in absolute silence, until my dad's anger flared up again. He menacingly stepped closer, a firm scowl planted on his face._

 _"_ _Devil child!" he screamed as his foot slammed into my now tiny body._

 _I heard a crack and started screaming wildly, but my lungs felt as if they were on fire so my breath came out in awkward gasps for air. Mum seemed to snap out of her trance and ran over just before dad kicked me again, easily scooping me up in her arms._

 _"_ _She's just a baby!" mum yelled, curling me into her body as I continued to cry because of the pain._

 _"_ _Just a baby?! Only a minute ago she was seven years old, and suddenly she can make us see her thoughts like the devil!" he shouted back, but retreated all the way out the house, slamming the door behind him._

 **August 1, 1946**

"Can I go around and explore the island for a while?" I asked as the worn-down rocking chair Dad sat on momentarily paused, and then returned to its creaking mantra of back and forth, back and forth.

About an hour ago we arrived on the tiny island of Cairnholm, and had checked in to the only place to stay on the entire island. The walls were freshly painted and curtains newly hung up, due to the fact that this was a new addition. According to Mr. McGually, the owner of the inn and tavern downstairs, we were the very first visitors.

"Be back before dark, and don't go too far out into the woods." he absentmindedly responded, clearly focused on the brochure full of information on Cairnholm shipwrecks. It was rather different from his chatty demeanor on the way here, talking to me about his thesis for another doctorate, this time in history. By some kind of "bizarre luck" nobody had ever written about this (in a scholarly acceptable form) and so I had seen nothing but the truest form of Dr. Coleman all week in preparation.

I jumped off my bed and went treading down the stairs leading back to a rundown pub, mum's pocket watch bouncing off my chest for a moment and almost slipping off as I did.

The downstairs pub was filled with men who, despite the morning hour, were already throwing back drinks by the dozen in celebration of the war that ended a year ago.

I hoisted myself onto the worn leather bar stool, my height, or lack thereof, making it an awkward struggle for a minute. By now my nose had adjusted to the strong smell of fish, but I nearly had to plug my nose as the stench piled together in the mass of men hanging on the other side, _loudly_ playing darts.

I fished a toonie of my 'emergency' money that dad gave me out of my pocket and handed it to Mr. McGually, "Do you have pancakes?" I asked.

"Of course we do" McGually winked at me, a rather odd look considering he seemed unable to only close one eye at a time.

"I'll have water with that please, keep the change" I smiled back at him.

He walked back to the kitchen, turning sideways so his beer belly to fit though, smiling all the way with rosy cheeks as I could tell was his usual demeanor.

"Another while your back there Cringle!" an elderly man shouted, a couple others asking for another as well.

I had to bite my lip to keep from snorting in an unladylike manner at the joke; Mr. McGually really did bear resemblance to Santa Claus, that is if Santa quit his regular job to run a pub on the scarcely populated island of Cairnholm, where the stench of beer was nearly as prominent as smell of fish.

I hoped off the bar stool and made a beeline for the man who'd kept fairly quiet, sitting alone, and much to his apparent disdain I sat right across from him.

"Sorry to bother you sir, but I was wondering if you've lived on the island long?" I smiled sweetly, to compensate for the look he was currently giving me.

He looked up from the empty drink, almost offended that I asked him the question, "I've lived 'ere me whole life, what of it?" the man spoke in a heavy accent.

"I'm only wondering if there are any interesting places to visit on the island, other than the shipwrecks?" I listened intently for his answer.

"None that a young lady such as yourself should be wandering round looking for, but on the mainland there's a nice shopping district." He replied, scoffing.

"Please sir! I'm not planning to go anywhere without an escort." I reasoned with a lie. He seemed content with the response, or just wanted to be rid of me. It didn't matter, besides, I don't see how walking around with one of Mr. McGually's drunks could make me much safer than if I wandered around alone.

"Alright alright, you young people are always in such a bloody hurry! If you want to see something really strange, go and check out the old children's home on the 'ore side of the island" my eyes lit up at the thought of there being other children, but my hopes were fast crushed as he finished his sentence "it's been unrecognizable since the bomb dropped on it in 1940, I believe the exact date was Sept 3.

Not one survivor too, but you seem like the type who'd find it of interest." The man shook his head, fiddling with the sunglasses he shimmied back up his face.

There's also the Cairnholm caves, most are just small damp little things, so there ain't any tourists. Be careful now." He finished as Mr. McGually handed him a drink.

I followed him back to my previous spot, where he fixed me with a solemn expression and spoke lowly "I heard Arthur talking to ya about the children's home; don't go there with or without an escort, it's only a rundown house that could cause ya all kinds of injuries. When a group of us went looking around the house, shortly after the bomb hit, well… let's just say it gave us the creeps. Nothing but trouble can come from visiting the other side of the island." To say the least I wasn't fazed in the slightest.

My adventurous habits always seemed to land me in trouble some way or another, but it was always worth it, so hell would freeze over before I listened to a warning from anyone. None the less I bobbed my head up and down in between bites, assuring him I'd stick to the town or the main beach.

Once I finished my breakfast I promised Mr. McGually once again that I wouldn't go to the other side of the island, and he seemed convinced.

On my way out the door I nearly tripped on a loose nail, catching myself just in time to avoid knocking into a teenage boy on his way in. His hands immediately reached out to steady me, and thank goodness to, because I lost my balance again the second my eyes came in contact with his steady blue orbs.

He looked to be about 16 or so, wearing a crisp suit in contrast to all the other men on the island who dressed to spend hours in a fishing boat or on a sheep farm.

I gathered myself, mumbling "Sorry" and continued even faster onto the main street with a bright red blush creeping its way to my cheeks.

"Splendid dress!" I heard him mutter excitedly a second before I was out of earshot.

The atmosphere was wonderfully grey outside, with wisps of fog poking around the beach and just enough cool mist in the air to catch on your tongue. The first thing I noticed was the extremely old looking piece of wood sticking from the water, 'The Burnham wreck, WW1' I recalled from my dad's gushing over it on the ferry here.

The wrecks didn't interest me though, I had after all asked to go out in order to avoid spending an entire hour just 'getting a feel' for the wrecks as I knew dad planned to. Really what had caught my eye were the dark, mysterious caves lining the part on the beach empty of the tourists or townspeople out and about.

As for Mr. McGually, I decided as a compromise I would only explore the caves today, and leave the more interesting prospect of the abandoned children's home for tomorrow.

I swiftly abandoned the water's edge and skipped over to the caves, humming a tune along the way.

 **Miss Peregrine's POV**

It felt quite unusual to need a coat, as I've long since grown used to the endlessly sunny days that my loop provided. About once a month I'd check out the present day, and worriedly I realized my outfit was just starting to look slightly out of place with the current fashions, but because of the island's seclusion from the outside world, I knew they were behind as well, and therefore hadn't caught a second glance my way.

I took out my pocket watch to examine the time; 9:27 and 42 seconds, just enough to get back to the younger children for their English lesson if I flew. With that in mind, I retreated back to the treeline and readily abandoned my human form, transforming into the Peregrine falcon. With a shake of my head I remembered how my children had taken to calling me 'the bird' when they think I can't hear them, but still became anxious to see them as quickly as possible to know they were safe.

My paranoia that somebody or _something_ would up and take them away hadn't let up since Victor was killed. My children still don't know, but it wasn't just them coming in contact with a hollow for the first time that night. I shuddered at the thought.

 _There it was, another bright and sunny day when that thing came crawling right from the ocean. Its shadow was of course visible, but everyone knew the island to be safe so even I hadn't been on the lookout. By the time we knew what was going on everything was a blur of shouting and screaming as I yelled for the children to run, grabbing a garden tool beside me just as the monster swooped Victor up._

 _My heart nearly stopped right then, but I knew he needed me now and so with a powerful swing of the spiked rake I impaled the monster. It let out a raging shriek before flinging Victor though the open air, and landing to the ground with a thud._

 _We were there for hours, Bronwyn crying the most, screaming and shouting so loudly that I eventually let go of Victor and cradled her._

 _It was the only time I'd let even a single tear drop in the presence of my children._

I stopped to perch for a minute on a tree branch near the path to the house as I spotted a girl wandering along the part I knew to be typically abandoned by townsfolk and tourists.

My instincts were screaming at me, there was quite simply something peculiar about her I noticed right away. It wasn't a beehive living in her upper half, or a ball of flame floating from her hands like some of my other children, but a quality that I outright knew, yet couldn't see. Who is she?

The girl looked to be around 16, but with childlike features at the same time; large brown eyes which seemed to swallow in every detail of the world around her with a great hunger, and a porcelain face with a couple of elegantly dotted freckles around her nose. Her thick, brown hair was wrapped into an elegant bun with tendrils of hair left out to frame her face.

The most noticeable thing about her was the magnificent dress she wore; grey but glittering as if it were catching rays of light and corseted on the top only to boldly flare out at the waist. The dress hit around her calves, and the short sleeves and conservative neckline seemed like something belonging on royalty, once again bringing about the question of who this strange girl was.

After another few seconds of skipping along the beach the girl turned in my direction, looking directly in my eyes and mouthing the words 'Peregrine falcon,' stepping closer, until she was nearly underneath me. It was when she tripped and took a tumble down the sanded walkway that I remembered I needed to lose her before entering the loop.

I circled back to the more popular part of the beach, but she didn't chase me like many of the foolish townsfolk would, only looked out into the distance and dusted the remaining pieces of sand off her dress. I was only thinking of my children's safety, but my instincts again indicated that this time it wasn't them who needed help.

My internal debate was won when she went exploring into a different cave, giving me the opportunity to easily swoop into the loop entrance. Though I kept it on my mental to do list that I should come back out and check on the girl tomorrow.

 **Hey Guys! I have been so obsessed with the new movie that cam out and wrote this just after seeing it! I've read the book too but keep in mind that I will be using most things from the movie (children's ages, powers, Miss Peregrine in general) but I've changed Horace's age to 16. Hope you like it! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated in so long. I decided to take a break from writing for a while since my Dad recently passed away from cancer, but I going to get back into it now hopefully. Anyways hope you like it!**

 **August 2, 1946**

I woke to the cool, Cairnholm morning breeze dancing across my cheek, the only part of me not bundled up into my thick, brown blanket. As my eyes adjusted to being open I saw the peak of sunlight making its way through my window. I suddenly shot up as I remembered my plans for the day; this time I wouldn't be so careful as to stay on the beach path, but would instead venture into the woods to find that old children's home.

My glance shifted to the small desk the other end of the quaint room, on top of which held the blank papers I was meant to turn into an essay over the summer.

"Write about what makes you who you are, what has been and will continue to shape your wonderful young minds!" My rather eccentric Professor, Uther, spoke, waving his hands about as always.

It was my own fault that I had summer work to do, as I had indulged my father who had me skip several grades, but still I nearly passed by the stationary without so much as writing my name. That is, until the memory of my father's strict voice rang through my head, "It does not do to leave work until the last minute".

With a reluctant sigh I sat down on the dusty chair, which creaked loudly as I moved, and got to work. I pulled the dictionary out of my bag with a nod, _start with a definition; that's always a good way to go._

"Family can be defined as a group of persons closely related by blood." the words rolled of my tongue as I tried my best to neatly write them.

I set the pencil down and begun to lightly tap the floor with my foot, taking in the smell of must which invaded the desk.

"And I agree with that? Wait no, I can't say that." I had begun to pace "Family is… important? Obviously! Genetics and nurture both play a part in… not nearly good enough." I gave up instantly, seeing that my inspiration to write anything was at a firm 0.

It was then, in the height of my frustration, a single blue feather drifted slowly down from my desk to the floor. I kneeled down to examine it, clutching the feather in my grasp and holding it close to my face while I squinted at it, something I surely picked up from my father.

"Peregrine feather" I spoke as my brows furrowed. It must have come in through my window during the night, but Peregrine birds never come this close to humans.

I remembered the Peregrine bird from yesterday, staring at me from an overhead tree branch with eyes wiser than any birds should be. I then thought of the caves which I had been exploring yesterday and became excited about seeing the children's home. My essay would just have to wait until tomorrow!

I picked my brown leather satchel form the floor, collecting the necessary items for my expedition like my mother's pocket watch, and, after some debate, the Peregrine feather for good luck.

Shoes turned out to be quite the dilemma, with the places I'd be trekking I needed boots, but the closest thing I had were my least fancy kitten heels, that, at least, wouldn't as easily show mud stains since they were black.

Despite the sun's appearance, I could already see clouds looming over the entirety of the island, with a promise for rain later. So over my typical silver dress I put on my forest green cloak and went off, leaving a note saying I'd join father back at the pub for dinner around seven.

I stopped to say hi to Mr. McGually, who was just opening up the pub to a few early risers.

"Where are you off to in such a rush?" he belched.

"Oh, I'm just going to the beach again I think" I smiled.

"You should really have something to eat before you go out to the 'beach'" Mr. McGually winked in between serving, "at least have some jam on toast, on the house."

"Thank you sir" I answered politely, but I hadn't really been paying attention. I was watching around the bar for the man I'd seen yesterday in hopes of getting some directions, as, 'the woods' were not quite specific enough.

Sure enough, a few moments after Mr. McGually brought me some toast, there was the old man, twirling his sunglasses around like the day before. So I picked up my plate and sat down to join him, once again, something of a scowl permanently etched into his features.

"Hello sir, how are you today?" the old man looked up, taking a great pause before responding.

"I'm wonderful, how are you?" he answered in a mocking tone, daring me to reply as if he cared.

"I don't mean to bother you; I'm Blakely, what's your name?"

"Arthur Baines"

"I was just wondering if you could tell me how to get to the old children's home?"

"You were actually serious about going?" the man paused, seeming to consider his options, "It's on the other side of the island, if you pass by Mr. Lithgow's sheep farm and continue to the north for about 20 minutes you should find your way. Just be careful."

"I will thank you!" I called over my shoulder, once again eagerly dashing out the pub door.

After around half an hour of searching, I finally came across the old children's home, and it didn't disappoint Mr. Baines horrific description as well as Mr. McGually's apparent fear.

Trees burst forth from broken windows and skins of scabrous vine gnawed at the walls like antibodies attacking a virus—as if nature itself had waged war against it—but the house seemed unkillable, resolutely upright despite the wrongness of its angles and the jagged teeth of sky visible through sections of collapsed roof.

Large, misshapen hedges popped out amongst the garden, which had grass nearly 3 feet tall due to lack of care. As I stepped closer though, I could look around the wreckage and begin to see parts of the children's life.

There was a soccer ball stuck inside an indented part of one of the larger hedges, that looked as if it was meant to be some creature but had been lost without trimming during the last few years. Venturing nearer, I edged into a room with plants right inside aided by the sunlight which could shine through the glass roof and walls.

The wooden floors creaked in protest as I took each step, whilst I quickly fell into a pattern of moving slowly and avoiding cracks as much as possible.

In the main house was a glass cabinet holding all types of wonderfully framed photos, untouched by disaster as if the bomb had forgotten it entirely. I hadn't been bothered by the 'ghost stories' about this house until I begun to examine each black and white image only to find the most peculiar things.

In one, a girl around my age floated several feet above the ground with a solemn look on her face, the rather large shoe in her right hand seeming to be the only thing keeping her from floating away.

The next looked even more bizarre, a swarm of bees took refuge all over a young boy about 10 years old, nearly covering him up entirely though the boy didn't look at all frightened.

There was something odd about the last photo that caught my eye, even amongst all the oddities of others, and compelled me to attempt grabbing it from its high shelf.

Carefully, I climbed from the chair to the cabinet's surface and took the photo from the very top, jumping down to examine it more thoroughly.

As soon as I saw it I couldn't help but to gasp out loud and tried not to drop the photo; in the photo stood a boy about 16 with a dashing smile and sophisticated suit, the same boy I could've sworn ran into me at the pub!

'But there's no way; that couldn't be!' my mind raced as Mr. Baines word's swam through my head "Not one survivor".

"Are you alright?" a voice came from the other side of the room. This time I did drop the photo as a whipped my head in the direction of the voice and saw none other than the man in the photo.

"This is not possible" I accidently spoke out loud, as the man gave me a confused look.

He took a step forward and I snapped; suddenly sprinting past him and out of the home, making my best attempt to jump and dodge rubble.

"Wait!" he shouted, but I only ran faster, past the beautiful green room and out of the wreckage that was once a children's home.

He obviously knew the land better than me, and seemed to be on the verge of catching up so I made a last minute turn in the direction of the beach; where I hoped to hide in one of the caves.

Immediately after getting to the caves I ducked into the first one, despite having not seen it there yesterday. Only a few steps in I could tell something was different, and suddenly all I could hear was a series of ticks, like a hyperactive clock.

For a minute I felt dizzy and lost my footing, landing with a thump onto the hard ground as the ticking noise made an abrupt stop.

At this point I was tired, confused and afraid all at once, so my instincts led me to conclude there was only one person I could go to for help: my dad. However, almost immediately after exiting the cave I could tell something was off: the day had completely changed from just a minute ago and the once gloomy sky had changed to reveille the bright shining sun, not a cloud in sight.

Disregarding my previous observation, I began once again sprinting; only I wasn't going to find my dad, I decided to circle back to the children's home since it was doubtful he would think I'd run back there.

It seemed as if everything had changed in the short time I'd gone into the cave, suddenly there were more people walking about, though, for some reason, it was mostly women. There was a more cautious air about the people though; a lingering worry that clouded what should've been a perfectly happy bunch of people.

I thought at this point nothing could surprise me, but after trudging once more through the bog, effectively ruining my heels, I had to blink a couple of times at the sight before me.

Gone were the treacherous vines all along the home, complete with a collapsed roof and various other forms of overgrown wildlife. In its place was an almost magical sight, with a little swing out front and a hedge in the shape of an elephant, a structure which could only be described using the word _home._

For the third time in less than 48 hours of being on this island I found a Peregrine bird at an almost alarmingly close distance. It elegantly swooped down from a large tree, and landed right in front of me; turning its head sideways as if it was giving me a thorough examination.

Then, without warning, the bird shot up from the ground, flapping wings about as its shape begun to change…


End file.
